Father's bookcase

Two years before my father died, he left me a small box full of his manuscripts. He said jokingly, "You can watch it later. He was a little embarrassed: "See if there is anything in it that can be used. Maybe you can publish an anthology after I leave. 」

We are in my study, surrounded by books. My father walked around looking for a place to put down his box. He seems to have unloaded a painful burden and finally quietly put the box in a corner. This is a shameful moment, which we will never forget. Later, we said a few light words and relaxed our mood. He also talked about some household chores, such as Turkey's endless political troubles and his credit business. The previous sadness is over.

I remember a few days after my father left, I walked around the study without touching the suitcase once. I have long been familiar with small black suitcases and locks. My father always takes that box with him when he travels and works. I also remember that when my father came back when I was a child, I used to open that little box. I like the perfume there. This small box is my childhood memory, but now I dare not touch it. Why can't you drive? Of course, it is the mysterious weight hidden in that box that makes me afraid to activate it.

I'm going to tell you the meaning of this weight now. This is the meaning of literature created by a man. He shuts himself in his room, sits at his desk and retreats to a corner to express his thoughts.

When I touched the box, I still couldn't open it. I know what some notebooks in that box have written. I have seen my father write in a notebook. This is not the first time I have felt the weight of a suitcase. My father has a large collection of books. In A.D. 1970, when he was young, he wanted to be a poet in Istanbul. He also translated the poems of French writer paul valery into Turkish, but he didn't want to live as a poet in a poor country with few readers. My grandfather is a wealthy businessman, and my father's teenager is very comfortable. He doesn't want to give up prosperity for literature. He loves life and loves the beauty of life, I understand.

The main reason why I don't want to open this box is, of course, that I won't appreciate what my father wrote. Father knew this and gave me the box as a joke. As a writer for twenty-five years, I feel sorry for this. I'm not angry that my father doesn't value literature. What really scares me is that I don't want to discover the possibility that my father is a good writer. Afraid of this, I dare not open my father's box. I can't even admit my fears. If valuable documents are really unearthed in this box, I will admit that my father has a completely different person, which is very terrible. Although I am an adult, I would rather my father is my father than a writer.

As a writer, it took me years of patient pursuit to find that the "secret other" is on you. Everyone's inner world has a "secret other", which provides a reason for others to exist. For me, writing is not about thinking about poetry or literary traditions at first, but sitting at the desk in the house, introspecting words and creating a new world. This person (male or female) can use a typewriter or a computer or a pen, because I have been writing for thirty years. Sometimes he may drink tea, coffee and smoke. Sometimes he stands up, walks out of the window and sees children playing in the street. If he is lucky, he will see the Woods and scenery. Maybe he only saw the black wall. Maybe write poems, plays or novels like me. Writing, all this is the result of patient introspection. Writing is to turn introspective experience into words. To study the world the author entered, we should persist in not giving up and be happy. I sat at my desk and slowly added some new words to the blank paper for a long time. I feel that I have created a new world. I seem to have revived another person inside me, like a person who can build bridges or domes with stones one by one. The stone used by our writers is words, and I found my own "others". For us writers, words are my bricks. We can observe these bricks from a distance, or touch them with paper or a pen tip to weigh them, and add them to the text word by word, so that after a few years, we can patiently create a new world.

A writer's secret is not inspiration. No one knows where the inspiration comes from except his patience. A lovely Turkish proverb says, "Dig a well with a needle." I think it's addressed to a writer. In my novel My Name is Red, I described the excellent painters in ancient times. They can even draw the same horse in the new year until they stop looking at it. I describe their lives, and I know that what I describe is the life of a professional writer and my own life. In order to achieve the required creativity, writers must sit at their desks patiently for several years, writing, writing and writing. When a writer feels too lonely, when he doesn't believe in his imagination, when what he writes is meaningless, and when he thinks that what he writes is his own business, then an angel of inspiration will appear and sketch the story and imagination into the inner world that the author wants to pursue. The most mysterious feeling for me is to find that some sentences are not my own imagination, but another kind of power I use. ...

I am afraid to open my father's box and look at his notebook. I know that the writing dilemma I accept will not be accepted by him; What he likes is living a very comfortable life with his friends. Maybe all the creative dilemmas I mentioned are my own experiences, and my own one-sided views have been taught by life. Many good writers, together with friends and family, will also write good literary works. Loneliness is not a necessary dilemma. When I was a child, my father often went to Paris, sitting in a hotel and writing notebooks like those writers. I know these Paris notebooks are also in that box. He told me these things. He told me that he had seen Saudi Arabia many times on the streets of Paris. Tell me enthusiastically which movies I have seen and other important news. I can't help thinking that my father's talk about these world literatures has a great influence on me as a writer. I think about how important my father's book is to me! In view of this, I should look at his notebook.

I think my heart is getting harder and harder, as hard as the president!